


Button Eyes

by greyedges



Category: Coraline (2009), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus is unhappy, Harry Potter Coraline AU, Harry isn’t a great dad, James and Lily can be little shits too, Other, Scorpius is Wyborne, this new house is probs haunted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyedges/pseuds/greyedges
Summary: The Potters have moved to an old, probably haunted, house in the middle of no where. Albus could not be less pleased. Harry is ignoring him, his mother is too busy for him, and his siblings are being pests as usual. While searching for his own fun, he stumbles upon a small passage that leads him to a more exciting life that might end up getting him in trouble.





	Button Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the plot. That all goes Neil Gaiman, Laika, and JKR.
> 
> This was requested for me to do on Tumblr by feritononperso for spooky month based on mzuul’s fanart!

The back door slammed behind Albus louder than he expected, but he didn’t jump. He kept on walking down the steps of the small porch, taking each one slowly. He frowned as he looked out over the vast garden that was grey and dull and dead. The sky was also dark and cloudy, putting a bigger damper on Albus’ and already sour mood.

Moving to a new house was not Albus’ idea of fun. The Potters hadn’t even been moved in a whole hour and he already wanted to go back to their old house. It didn’t help that his older brother, James, and his younger sister, Lily, seemed to think this move was a dream come true. They had already decided to take a trip into town for the on-going Shakespeare festival which Albus took no interest in, so he was left to his own devices, which wasn’t unusual.

He padded through the dry dirt and peered over an extra dead looking bush, breaking off the most perfect ‘Y’ shaped branch he could find. He closed his eyes and held the branch up pretending as if it was going to guide him in the right direction of the secret well he’d heard the landlord talking about, and began walking up the hill that led past the garden.

As he walked, hitting the branch against rocks and stamping in the dirt, he heard rustling in the bushes beside him. He paused and squinted his eyes, peering into the poor, spindly things, not seeing anything.

He nudged them with his branch and the sound of a hissing cat caught him off guard. A ratty, black mass suddenly jumped out of the bushes and quickly circled him.

“Agh!” He jumped back, not wanting to be attacked by a cat. He moved further up the hill, shouting at it, “You scared me to death, you ugly thing! I’m just trying to find a secret well, do you know where it is?”

It seemed to ignore Albus, licking it’s paw.

Albus heard more rustling and turned around, facing the forested area beyond the trail he’d been following. He stared, squinting his eyes and suddenly saw a flash of white and grey followed by the sound of snapping branches and crunching leaves.

The wind howled and his heart rate picked up, the first thing coming to mind was ghosts...

He suddenly felt a presence behind him, and he felt his throat catch, spinning around just as his mysterious stalker opened his arms and shouted, “BOO!”

“Argh!” Albus shouted just as a loud crack of thunder boomed in the sky. He stumbled back and waving his branch at this stranger. 

Ghost boy had white blonde hair and was wearing a baggy grey rain coat and tight worn jeans along with black rain boots that almost went up to his knees, he also had black gloves on which Albus found odd. 

This was a stark contrast to Albus bright yellow raincoat and matching rain boots.

“Let me guess, you’re from somewhere all posh, like London, or Cambridge,” this mysterious boy spoke. His blond hair hung down in his eyes but he didn’t seem to mind. He also didn’t seem to stop moving - pacing around Albus as if he was giving him a full body inspection. He suddenly slipped Albus’’ branch from his hand as if he had the rights to it. He held it up inspecting it curiously. “I’ve heard about water witching before, but it doesn’t make sense - it’s just a stick.”

Albus, suddenly offended, stepped towards him and yanked the stick from his hands, “It’s a dowsing rod! And I do not appreciate being stalked by ghostly nerds and their raggedy cats!” He huffed.

“Oh,” the ghost boy perked up, pandering over to the cat who was still perched on the rock, minding it’s own business. He knelt over and began petting it, “He’s not my cat - I mean, sometimes I feed him, or let him sleep inside when it’s cold - but he mostly just follows me around and brings me funny dead things. He’s not mine, you see, grandmother would never let me keep a cat.”

Albus huffed, annoyed, and rolled his eyes just as another crack of thunder came, “I’m actually from Manchester and I’m just trying to find the secret well, do you know where I can find it?”

The ghostly boy just titled his head, “If you jump too hard you’ll fall right in it.”

Albus glanced down at the ground, noticing a ring of eerily colored, red mushrooms surrounding him. He gasped and jumped out of the circle.

Ghost boy got down and pushed the dirt away, revealing a rusty man hole cover. Albus eyed it curiously and then watched the other boy take a rather large stick and jam it into the side and pry it up.

“Here you go,” he casually gestured to it, “It’s apparently so deep that if you fell to the bottom, you’d be able to see a sky full of stars in the middle of the day.”

Albus felt a smirk tug at his lips, “How cool... Do you think it really is?” He carefully peered at it, as if he could fall in even with the cover still on.

The other boy just shrugged. “I’m surprised she let you move in,” he commented randomly.

Albus turned back to the ghost boy, “Why do you say that?”

“Well, my grandmother owns the Mint Mansion and she doesn’t usually rent out to people with kids,” he explained.

Albus furrowed his eyebrows, “My family’s got three - why won’t she usually rent it out?”

The boy became fidgety and ducked his head, turning his body away from Albus. This only caused Albus to advance closer out of curiosity. 

“I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it... I’m Scorpius by the way,” he quickly changed the topic, sticking his hand out to shake. “Scorpius Malfoy.”

Albus gave him a curious look, “That’s an odd name,” Albus weakly shook the other boys hand. “But I guess you are an odd boy.”

Scorpius seemed to ignore the insult, “What do they call you then?”

“Albus,” he replied simply, following Scorpius with his eyes as the latter stepped away clumsily.

“Albert what?”

“Al-_bus_ Potter,” he corrected with a glare.__

Scorpius turned his back to Albus and began walking away, although still talking. “Hm that’s not a very interesting name...” Albus quickly realized he was following the black cat, attempting to pet it, but it seemed unbothered. “You know what they say about people with ordinary names?” He asked, not expecting Albus to answer. He then proceeded to plop down onto the ground and the cat then gladly came up to him, rubbing his head on Scorpius’ leg and letting him pet him. “They say that leads others to have ordinary expectations about them.”

Albus huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Before he could think of a witty response, a call came from down the hill.

_“Scorpius!”_

“I think I heard someone calling you,” Albus informed after Scorpius didn’t seem to make any move to get up.

The blond boy suddenly looked up, “What?” He chuckled awkwardly, “I... I didn’t hear anything...”

_“Scorpius!”_ another shout came.

Another awkward laugh escaped Scorpius lips and he wobbled as he stood up on his feet, “Oh that’s my grandma...”

Albus narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the lanky odd boy in front of him, “You better get going, ghost boy.”

“I’ll see you around then - but next time, I would wear gloves,” he waved his glove covered hands as he slowly back away.

Albus frowned, moving to knock the stick against a big rock, “And why would I do that?”

“Because that’s poison oak.”

Albus glanced down at his hands and gasped, quickly dropping his branch. “Agh!” He groaned, only just now noticing the red itchy spots blossoming on his palms.

He looked back up to make a snarky comment to Scorpius, but the boy had seemingly vanished into thin air - there wasn’t even a sign of him walking down the hill.

“Hmm,” Albus hummed curiously, shrugging uncaringly as he turned back around towards the well. He slowly sank to his knees, peering into a fashioned hole in the cover. He stared for a moment, his eye not being able to focus on anything in the blackness. He turned and ran his hand through the gravel, finding a small enough rock to fit through the hole, then dropped it in, counting how many seconds it took for it to hit the bottom and echo.

••••

“I almost fell down a well yesterday, dad,” Albus sighed as he stood over the sink, picking at the red itchy splotches on his hand.

“Uh-huh,” was his dad’s uninterested reply from the table where he sat, scribbling away at some report.

“I could’ve died,” Albus droned, exasperatedly.

“That’s nice,” Harry hummed, clearly not listening.

Albus threw his head back, letting out a groan as he spun around towards the kitchen table, “So can I go outside and explore? I think it’s the perfect weather for exploring.”

His dad didn’t even look up from his writing, “No, Albus, it’s raining. Rain creates mud and mud creates a mess. I don’t have time to be picking up after you all day.”

Albus frowned, slouching over, “Well if I can’t go exploring, then what _can_ I do?” He nagged.

“There’s lots of unpacking to be done, it wouldn’t hurt to get started on that,” he gave Albus a pointed look.

“Oh how exciting,” Albus groaned sarcastically.

“Your brother and sister didn’t seem to complain about that at all. Maybe you should go keep busy like them. Like normal kids.” Harry shook his head.

There was nothing Albus hated more in the world than when his parents compared him to Lily or James. He felt his heart sink and let his frown show on his face.

“Oh, some kid left this at the door for you this morning,” without even glancing at his son, Harry pushed what looked like a massive wad of newspaper across the table.

There was a note attached to it. Albus opened it with a bored expression plastered across his face.

_Hey Potty, Look what I found in gramma’s trunk. Look familiar? - Scorp’_

He rolled his eyes and pushed the newspaper back to reveal a doll that looked almost exactly like him but with huge black, button eyes. He had his unruly black hair and even the same yellow rain coat and rain boots.

“Yuck,” Albus groaned, letting the paper fall to the floor as he held the doll up.

“What’s his name?” Harry asked absentmindedly.

“Scorpius,” Albus answered, already moving out of the kitchen, “Who does he think I am? I don’t play with dolls!”

Albus wandered into the hallway and upstairs to where he knew his mother was working on her own report of goodness knows what.

“Hey mum,” he stepped into the room they were going to make her office. She hadn’t seemed to have heard him. _“Mu-u-um,”_ he sing-songed.

Ginny let out an exasperated sigh and spun a round, ceasing her typing. She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance before greeting Albus.

“Hello Albus, and... Albus doll?”

“Mum, can I go outside and do some exploring?” He asked innocently.

“I believe it’s pouring out there... what did your dad say?” She questioned.

Albus, in a mocking tone, practically yelled, _“NO! Absolutely not! Don’t even think about it!”_

Ginny sighed, “Well then there, you have your answer.” She spun back around in her chair and resumed typing.

Albus let out a small huff and glanced down, noticing a loose floor board and stomping on it, making the opposite end pop up. He alternated jumping on each end, causing Ginny to groan in frustration and turn back around.

“Albus, you know this house is nearly a hundred and fifty years old,” she sighed.

“So?” Albus rolled his eyes.

“So go count all the doors and windows and write down everything that is blue,” she handed him a mini notepad, “Just please, let me work.”

Albus took the notepad and left with a frown on his face.

He soon discovered that a house this old makes a lot of weird noises, especially when it’s raining. He meandered through the creaky corridors and poked his head in every room, writing out how many doors and windows he could find. His list of blue items was slim, but as least he was exploring...

He finally stumbled upon the living room, the last room in the house that he had to visit. He set the Albus-doll on a side table and curiously opened one of the moving boxes. This one happened to hold the snow globes that his parents collected at very holiday destination they went to. He carefully removed them and placed them up on the mantle. He went back to his notepad and jotted some more things down.

“Four incredibly boring windows, and no... more... doors,” he mumbled aloud as he wrote it out on the notepad.

Albus turned back to the table to grab the creepy look-a-like doll but eerily found he wasn’t there. He glanced around the dull, dusty room, ducked his head under the table, then caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye.

“Huh?” He wondered out loud, straightening back up and walking over to where it seemingly had fallen behind a box between the wall. He hadn’t even walked over there...

He shoved the box out of the way and picked up the doll, only to notice the outline of a small door pressed into the wallpaper, as if someone had purposely tried to seal it up.

“HEY DAD?!” He shouted as he ran his hand across the indent.

“I am very _very_ busy!” Harry called back.

“What does this door go to?!” Albus shouted.

There was an annoyed groan from the kitchen followed by the screeching of the wooden chair on the tile, then his dad’s heavy footsteps down the corridor.

Albus turned towards the doorway just as Harry stepped into the unfurnished living room, his hands placed angrily on his hips.

“If I open this for you, do you promise to leave me alone?” He groaned.

Albus clasped his hands together in a pleading manner and gave a pouty face, “Please? I promise.”

Harry huffed and walked out. Albus waited patiently as he heard his dad shuffling in the drawer of spare keys. He returned swiftly and knelt down next to Albus.

He bounced slightly on his knees with excitement of a new possible place to explore. Harry used the key to break the seal of the wallpaper and unlocked it with a clunky click, and pulled it back to reveal nothing but a brick wall, much to Albus’ disappointment.

Albus let the deep frown show on his face. His father’s annoyance practically radiated off of him.

“They probably sealed it off when they divided up the house,” he shrugged, uninterested, standing back up and heading back towards the kitchen.

“Hey, you didn’t lock it,” Albus commented, gesturing to the small door.

Harry snapped back around, a glare on his face, “Remember what you promised?” He made a zipping motion across his lips and turned back out through the door.

Albus physically deflated, his frown growing as he silently turned back to the door.

It wasn’t that his father didn’t usually treat him this way - he did, and it was rather obvious that Albus was the least favorite of his siblings. Anyone could see that. Him and his father were more different than alike, and that made it hard for Harry to relate to him. James and Lily were just like Harry, so he loved them more. Albus had already tried to make peace with that fact.

Albus’ defeated sigh filled the eerie quiet that hung in the dusty room like a damp blanket.

Today was going to be a long day of boredom and silence...

That night his mum cooked dinner. And she was rubbish at cooking.

“Argh,” Albus groaned, knocking his head onto the table, “Why can’t dad cook?”

When he was younger, Albus’ dad would cook all the meals - he was a wonderful cook, having grown up making food for his aunt and uncle all the time. But now - for some reason Albus would never understand - his mum cooked the meals. Her turkey was always dry, her beans always burnt, and bread always stale.

“We’ve told you, Albus. Your mum cooks, I do the cleaning and _you_stay out of the way,” Harry sighed, “I promise I’ll go grocery shopping as soon as I finish this report.” He pushed Albus’ plate closer to him, “Now stop complaining and eat your vegetables.”

“Yeah, Albus stop complaining,” his brother James teased, both boys stuck their tongues out at each other, making spitting noises.

“It’s really not that bad Albus, gosh,” Lily huffed.

Albus made a disgusted sound as he watched her take a bite out of some watery mashed potatoes. He then pretended to gag as he picked up what he thought was supposed to be a green bean, but really just felt like mush in his fingers. “Vegetables? More like... gunk.” He dropped the green bean back on his plate with a unsatisfying splat.

”Well it’s either beans or bed, so take your pick.”

Albus groaned, leaning back in his chair, and decided he’d rather go to sleep than eat that disaster of a dinner.

He dramatically slid off his chair and marched up the creaky old stairs to his room. 

Albus laid in his bed that was still just a mattress with a sleeping bag on top. Most everything of his was still packed away in the boxes. He stared at the ceiling that held a massive, spreading crack, thinking about how much this new house sucked. His parents had wanted to get out of the city for some privacy, but this dusty old house wasn’t worth it for Albus to have some privacy, that’s for sure.

He rolled over to his nightstand where he had a picture of him and his cousin Rose from back home.

“I hope you’ll come and visit soon,” he sighed quietly, the loneliness hitting him. He tugged the sleeping bag up to his chin and dozed off.

Sometime in the middle of the night he woke to the sound of scratching and squeaking under his bed.

Albus pushed the covers back and leaned over the edge to just in time to see a small mouse slip out his door. Curiosity got the best of him and he quickly slipped out of bed, chasing after it.

It took him downstairs, through the hall, then into the living room. It paused, glanced back at Albus and just as he was about to catch up to the rodent, it slipped through the crack of the tiny door he’d discovered earlier.

“Ha!” He cheered triumphantly, knowing it couldn’t get through the brick wall.

He pulled the door back and gasped, stumbling back as he realized the brick wall was no longer there and instead was replaced with a long, colorful tunnel.

He moved to his hands and knees, curiously examining it. He glanced behind himself to see if someone else was there, but nope. He sucked in a breath and crawled through the tunnel.

He reached the other end but let out a disappointed sigh as he realized he had just come back to the same living room. He stood up and dusted off his pajama pants, then glanced up and noticed that the painting above the fireplace was more colorful, and that the room itself was actually furnished, and not packed all away in boxes.

Suddenly the overwhelming scent of freshly baked food wafted into the room and he breathed it in happily. He quickly dashed out of the living room and into the kitchen to investigate.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw his dad at the stove, his back turned as he mixed up something in a bowl.

“Dad?” He laughed, excitement bubbling up inside him, “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” He asked, stepping inside further.

At his words, Harry spun around and Albus nearly tumbled backwards out of shock.

Big black buttons were sewn where his eyes were supposed to be. And he had a wide smile that unnerved Albus slightly.

“You’re just in time for dinner, Albus,” he informed cheerily.

Albus furrowed his eyes in accusation, “You’re not my dad... My dad doesn’t have bu... bu...”

“Buttons?” He chuckled, “That’s because I’m your Other Father.” He whistled happily as he placed some food on the table, “Now go tell your Other Mother that dinner is ready,” he instructed, shooing Albus off, “She’s in her study.”

Albus eyed his Other Father carefully before slowly leaving the kitchen.

He made his way upstairs to where his mum’s office was, noticing that wall paper actually had color to it, and that the floor boards didn’t creak when he stepped on them. It was as if this version of his house wasn’t ancient.

He reached the door of his mum’s study and pushed it open to see her sitting with her back to him. But her desk that had the computer and was scattered with papers, was replaced with an easel, with art tools and paints propped next to it.

His mum didn’t paint...

“Hello?” Albus spoke warily.

His Other Mother suddenly turned around, a bright smile on her face, the same black buttons over her eyes, “Hello, Albus! Would you like to see my newest painting?”

Albus took a few wary steps forward, “My mother doesn’t know how to paint...”

“No need to know how!” She chuckled, a sound Albus was not familiar with, and turned back around to her canvas. “It paints for me!”

Albus watched in curiosity as a pair of white gloves sprang from out behind the easel and fit themselves onto her hands and began painting for her.

An image quickly began forming on the canvas, and he soon realized it was him that she was painting.

“Wow...” Albus breathed out. She’d gotten the hair and everything, he was even wearing his yellow rain coat from the other day...

“Do you like it?” his Other Mother asked, “Your Other Father said you would.”

“Yeah,” Albus mumbled, not sure how to process all this. He suddenly remembered why he came up here in the first place. “Uh, he said to tell you that dinner is ready.”

When they arrived downstairs, Other James and Other Lily were already sat at the dinner table, waiting patiently, their black button eyes focused on the food his Other Father had prepared.

“Hi Albus!” They chimed together as he sat down.

“I really like those pajamas,” James complimented.

“Yeah, they’re way cooler than ours,” Lily added.

Albus wasn’t used to being complimented by his siblings, he was usually the one envious of them. “Oh thanks,” he mumbled.

“I thought you’d like them better if they said nice things,” his Other Father explained. Albus wasn’t sure how to feel about his Other Siblings and their uncharacteristic comments.

His Other Parents sat down and everyone started helping themselves to the food.

Albus hesitated, eyeing the warm chicken sitting in front of him. He grabbed a leg and took a bite, the soft warm chicken practically melting in his mouth.

“Mmm,” he couldn’t help but hum in satisfaction. It had been so long since he’d had good food.

“Is there anything else you’d like, dear?” Other Father asked, “Another roll? More corn? Some carrots?”

Albus thought for a moment, feeling overwhelmed with his options, “I’m actually feeling quite thirsty.”

“Of course!” Other Father smiled, “Any requests?” He asked as the chandelier spun around and lowered to the table, looking like something out of a funhouse dream he’d had in his childhood. Each arm of the fixture offered a different drink and Albus peered around at his options.

“How about a chocolate milkshake?” He asked hopefully.

“Coming right up,” Other Father said as the chandler spun until the arm holding the vial of never ending chocolate milkshake stopped in front of him.

Albus happily grabbed his empty cup and filled it up.

As he took several big gulps of the best tasting chocolate shake he’d ever had, his Other Father slipped a plate with a whole sized chocolate cake on it in front of him.

He set the glass down and stared at the cake in awe. The words _‘Welcome Home!’_ frosted themselves and Albus felt his excitement turn back to confusion.

“Home?” He asked warily.

“Yes, Albus, we’ve been waiting for you,” Other Father tilted his head as he smiled. He moved to stand behind his Other Mother, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Waiting for me?” Albus wondered, glancing around the table at his Other Siblings too, who were giving him wide smiles.

“Yes, it wasn’t the same without you, Albus,” James added.

“I didn’t even know I had another father...” Albus admitted.

“Of course you do!” His Other Mother chimed in, “Everyone does!”

Harry took a few steps back towards Albus, changing the topic, “I thought after you finished eating, we could all go play a game.”

“A game? What kind of game?” Albus asked hesitantly. He liked games, maybe this could be fun.

“Any game you like,” Other Father smiled, his fingers tapping on the table top rhythmically.

“Hide and seek?” Albus asked.

“Hide and seek in the rain!” Other Harry offered.

Albus looked over at the window to see that it wasn’t raining, “In what rain?” He asked, turning back to face his Other Father.

A loud crack of thunder suddenly made Albus jump, his head snapped back towards the window just in time to see a flash of lightening strike the sky.

“Oh... what about the mud?”

Other Harry practically gasped, “We love mud! Mud facials, mud baths - and besides, it’s great for poison oak,” he grabbed Albus’ hand, holding up his palm that was still covered in the rashes from his stick.

Albus jerked his hand away, “How did you know that I-“ he cut himself off, suddenly feeling very uneasy with this Other Family. “I-I’d love to play... but I really must be getting back to my other father...” He pushed himself back from the table, standing to his feet.

His Other Father stepped closer to him, “But I am your Other Father.”

“I-I mean my other _other_ father...” Albus turned to leave but suddenly bumped into his Other Mother. “I think I should get to bed.”

“Of course, sleepy-head,” his Other Mother smiled, nudging him towards the door.

They guided him upstairs and into his room - except it wasn’t his room. His walls were painted bright green, and his bed had comfy blankets and pillows stacked on it. The ceiling wasn’t cracking and the floor was fixed up with shiny wooden flooring. His toys seemed to flutter to life at the sight of him. His paper cranes that had been draped from his bed posts fluttered around the room, chirping happily.

“Albusssss,” His stuffed snake hissed from his shelf and waved its tail in greeting. He chuckled and waved back.

He turned his attention back to his bed and noticed his picture with Rose on his night stand was moving.

“How’s it going, Al?” She asked and Albus practically leaped onto the bed, grabbing the picture.

“Rose! It’s so good to see you! Are you coming to visit soon?” He asked.

“I’m already here, Albus,” she chuckled and Albus didn’t have time to ponder what she meant as his Other Father was leaning over his bed.

“Oh,” Albus squeaked as his Other Father held out a handful of mud. “For the poison oak...”

Other Harry gave him an assuring smile and rubbed it over his red and itchy palms.

“Good night, Albus,” his Other Mother hummed as she tucked him in.

“Sweet dreams,” his Other Father added, tucking the jar of mud away.

Albus slipped under his covers and felt himself doze off quickly.


End file.
